| |
“A LITTLE BIT TO YOUR right, Phillip. Now down some on your end, Ed.” Lexie’s mother gestured with her hands while she spoke. “Perfect! Hold it right there,” she said, running to where Phil and Lexie’s father held the new, Dodson’s Farmer’s Market, sign.
She removed the screws from her tool belt and used her Craftsman power drill to secure the sign to the front of the building. After she finished, she stepped back and admired her handiwork.
“How’s the place look?” Ed asked.
“Like a real market,” Gail said. She crossed her arms and smiled, her eyes sparkling.
The outside of the market gleamed from the fresh paint—dark green and white. The inside was a crisp cream, with rows of barren, wooden shelves and bins, waiting to be filled with the coming season’s produce and goods.
“It looks really good,” Lexie said. “You guys did an amazing job.”
Phil stepped down from the ladder, brushed the dust off his jeans, and walked past Lexie toward his truck, without so much as a word or a glance in her direction. Nothing had changed in the past weeks since her arrival, and she didn’t expect them to.
Convinced Lexie should tell him about her rape, her mother had tried to reason with her, but her firm refusal to disclose her situation remained. The notion that if her brother knew what happened to her, he would be more understanding and lay off her a bit, was her mother’s motivation. But they both knew Lexie’s past actions were responsible for the wedge between them, and she didn’t want to use what happened to her as an absolution.
Watching Phil’s retreating form, Lexie’s mother moved to her side. “He’ll get over it. He has to,” she said, placing one hand on Lexie’s arm.
Ed stepped down from the ladder, retrieved a hanky from his pocket and wiped his forehead. “Hey, Gail, did you schedule an appointment for that mare yet?”
“No. I didn’t. I’ll call Dr. Gray when I get back to the house,” her mother said.
Ed nodded, then rounded the building, out of sight.
“What mare? Penny?” Lexie asked. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Oh, nothing’s wrong with her. She’s pregnant. She needs her nine-month vaccinations, is all.”
“Oh,” Lexie said. Like me, she wanted to add but refrained from comparing herself to a horse. “Are you going to keep the foal?”
“Probably. You know I never had a heart for weaning them.”
Lexie nodded. She thought about her own choice to give her baby up for adoption, making her even more grateful she hadn’t made the comparison. “Well, I wanted to go for a drive. I’ll stop by Dr. Gray’s office, if you like, and make the appointment.”
“That’d be nice. Save me the trouble of making a phone call. Do you think you could swing by the store and pick up some milk while you’re at it? We’re out.”
“Sure.”
Fifteen minutes later, Lexie left the vet’s office and headed up Route 11. She’d stop at the grocery for her mother, but first, she wanted the silence and peace of a noon drive.
She rolled her windows down, letting the warm, spring air blast through them as she drove. The wind whipped through her hair, glinting red and bronze in the sun. She hoped to clear her head, give herself a reprieve from the nagging worry and anxiety, which plagued her for the past week since her visit to Dr. McMillan.
The portion of tests she had performed in his office already came back negative. She had yet to obtain the results of the blood work she had done at the lab though. Though she hoped her anxiety might ease once she received a negative result, she knew it probably wouldn’t. Though nothing was impossible, the chances of Brent having such a serious disease was doubtful. He and Sienna had been trying to conceive for years themselves.
Since her appointment, Lexie receded back into her shell. When she told her mother about what happened to her, she thought she had taken a step in the right direction. A small piece of herself had been freed by her disclosure. There was a distinct possibility she had been wrong in her silence, that speaking out was the anecdote (if there were one) to maintaining a sense of normalcy, to releasing the fear and pain which gripped her. Disclosing her assault to the doctor, however, caused her to take two steps back. Cold and accusatory in her irresponsibility since the attack, he rebuffed her. And as a result, a part of her closed off even more than before.
She glanced at the clock. Even though she hadn’t been driving long, only fifteen minutes, she decided to turn around and head back into town. It was clear the drive wasn’t having the calming effect she had hoped, and she needn’t give her mind the time and opportunity to wander.
On the horizon, she noticed a shopping center. One she had never seen before, and she was certain never existed when she lived there in town.
With her curiosity piqued, she found herself turning onto the ramp, then into the parking lot. Circling around, she gaped at the contemporary building. The spot once held the bones of an old farmhouse fallen victim to an electrical fire when she was a child.
Glancing up at the sign, she did a double-take—Anderson Outfitters.
Her heart leaped in her chest, and even as she rejected the notion that this store might belong to Elliot, she found herself parking the car and getting out.
With a lump in her throat, she found herself moving in the direction of the store, her footsteps heavy on the pavement. She didn’t want to see him, not while her life lay like shards of broken glass at her wounded feet. Not when he could say that maybe she had been wrong in leaving.
She stepped inside the sliding doors, greeted by bright lights and crisp, clean air. Taking everything in, her gaze flickered over her surroundings to the checkouts, the aisles of apparel, and the expansive fishing section in the back.
“Can I help you?”
Lexie turned toward the voice. A young man stood behind her with a name tag that read, Ben.
Lexie cleared her throat. “Actually, I’m not sure I have the right place. I’m looking for Elliot Anderson.”
“Yeah, this is the right place. He just stepped out though. He should be back in a couple minutes if you’d like to wait.”
“No . . . uh, thank you.” Her stomach dipped, and her palms began to sweat. “I’ll stop by another time,” she said, backing toward the exit.
Once outside, she inhaled a lungful of fresh air. The mid-day sunshine blasted her eyes, blinding her. Coming to a halt, she squinted into the light, her mind reeling. The last thing she needed was to trigger any kind of emotions a run-in with Elliot would cause. She hadn’t seen him since the day she left home and was no readier to face him today than she had been back then.
She had been a coward then and a coward now.
Still, that knowledge didn’t stop her from heading for her car. Only when a man stepped out of a nearby car did she stumble. He had dark hair and eyes and wore an impeccably tailored suit. Jingling his keys, he passed her hurriedly, with the scent of his cologne trailing him.
It hit her like a fist to the stomach, that scent, leaving her breathless.
Her throat turned to sand, and when she swiveled around, unsteadily on her feet, she expected him to be waiting behind her.
Her skin prickled with goosebumps and her nostrils flared with the lingering scent of sandalwood, leather, and spice, so terrifyingly familiar. Brent’s scent.
Gripping her stomach, she groaned as her muscles clenched.
It’s not him.
It’s not him.
It’s not him.
Even as she repeated these three words, the resemblance, the familiarity, pricked at her insides, begging with her, screaming at her to run.
Fight or flight, her heart said, what’s it gonna be?
She tried to move her feet, but sometime in the last couple seconds, they had turned to lead, immovable. Frantically, she searched the parking lot in front of her, but her car was nowhere to be seen. Irrationally, her mind reeled. Panic burned in her lungs.
He must have moved it, the man, so she couldn’t escape.
A tremor rocked through her, and her body quaked. Brent’s hot breath kissed her skin, convincing her of his presence. He screamed at her, his voice sinister and threatening. This is your fault. I’m only giving you what you want, what you deserve. You keep your whore mouth shut, or I’ll kill you. Do what I say, or I’ll kill you.
His hands clenched around her wrists, before moving to her throat, squeezing. The air escaped her lungs at once. Her throat ached, and her lungs flamed like torch fire until she thought they’d turn to ash. Even as her body convulsed, spasms racking her chest, and she fought for air when there was none to be had.
Lexie dropped to her knees, feeling the sharp stab of concrete bite into flesh. Tears stung her eyes. For several moments, she wasn’t sure how long, the world stood still, just a blur of colors before darkness claimed her. And when she felt the warm grasp on her arms and legs, panic flared in her veins. But she couldn’t move.
This was it, she thought, dully. She had told people about the rape, and as a result, he had come to kill her, to finish what he started.
She waited for the jagged edge of pain, the final blow, but when it didn’t come, she vaguely recognized that the touch was not threatening but gentle. The familiar voice in her ear, not that of a monster, but one of her past, whispered, “It’s okay now. I’ve got you.”